Through the Looking Glass
by ShanghaiLily
Summary: People have been sending me these little writing challenges on Tumblr, so I thought I'd start posting the results here. Think of these as a series of disconnected one-shots. Hope you enjoy these little tales that might have been...
1. Better Late Than Never

_**Prompt submitted by: Anon**_

_**Pairing: LoVe**_

_**AU setting: First date or first time**_

* * *

_**Better Late Than Never**_

The first date that Logan planned for them had been perfect; his father's prized boat, a bottle of champagne and a vast expanse of open water separating them from the critics who would undoubtedly scare her off him.

His instincts were always on the money when it came to women. The boat was a fail safe way to give the ladies what they both wanted and expected from him. It was a bone fide panty-dropper. It wasn't lost on him that this was also the reason his dad probably bought it in the first place.

Logan had never been granted permission to use the boat in the past, and he wasn't quite sure why he had gotten it then, but he liked to think of it as hard evidence that his dad had (at one time) actually wanted what was best for him. That Veronica was whom Aaron had decided was best for him, was the ironic gift that kept on giving.

But she didn't show that day. And deep down, beneath the layers of self-hate and loathing, he hadn't really expected her to. He hadn't earned it yet.

* * *

The _second_ first date that Logan planned for them, wasn't actually planned at all. After spending an hour with Veronica at his plastic surgeon's office, with her holding his hand as the doctor removed stitches from his forehead, he spontaneously asked her if she wanted to grab a pizza afterwards.

He expected her to say no. Luckily for him, she was always up for pizza, so they took it to the beach with a few warm cans of S'Kist.

After they finished eating, they sat on the shoreline in a companionable silence. With shoulders barely touching, they simply watched the waves ride in and tickle their feet before drawing back out again to sea. It wasn't until her head fell heavily on his shoulder and her eyelashes brushed against the side of his face like a hummingbird, that he even realized it _was_ a date.

By the time the tide would have reached her knees, she was already straddling his lap.

He hadn't really expected her to, which only made everything that much more perfect.


	2. Playing With Matches

_**Prompt submitted by: TroubleScout**_

_**Pairing: LoVe**_

_**AU setting: Kindergarten Class**_

_***This one was supposed to be six sentences, but I cheated and added a seventh :)**_

* * *

_**Playing with Matches**_

Like the world's tiniest monarch, Logan Echolls strolled into the classroom on the first day of his new school wearing a birthday crown fashioned by his sister, and holding a giraffe-shaped balloon as a royal sceptre.

Though his family had moved into their new home less than two weeks ago, technically, his father still lived in LA.

Aaron had been filming somewhere in Thailand over the last two months and had missed the move entirely, which should have bothered Logan less than it did, considering his ribs were still healing from the last time his father was in town.

After much deliberation on the best seating arrangement (choices like these could make or break a new kid), he finally settled on a desk, but before he had a chance to seat himself, a whirlwind of blonde and pink with one knee-sock bunched up around her ankle, shot past him like a bullet and slid into the exact desk he'd been planning on gracing with his presence.

"Where's the fire?" he sneered, bending over to retrieve the giraffe balloon, which had fallen out of his hand with the shock of her arrival.

Looking up from the floor, Logan locked eyes with the tiny, flaxen dynamo, who was smirking her amusement, and a burning sensation began to fester in his gut.

_So that's where the fire is…_


	3. Beatific

_**Prompt submitted by: TroubleScout**_

_**Pairing: MaDi**_

_**AU setting: A poetry reading(!)**_

* * *

_**Beatific**_

Hipster beat poetry had a time and a place.

It _should_ have been 1960 in a dank bar in the East Village of NYC. Instead, it was five minutes ago at the student rec center of Hearst College.

What was Parker thinking?

Last night, after several beers, it sounded like a reasonable suggestion. Mac had broken up with Max over a month ago, and after spending nearly all of her free time in recent memory on her back in his door room, she had forgotten what the real world was like.

Her roommate was determined to get her back out there - suggesting the remounting of horses and bikes, and every other toothless cliche she could manage to conjure during that magic period between slightly tipsy and dry-heaving over the toilet.

According to Parker, Mac needed to relearn the limited social skills she once possessed. She had to 'venture out to public places where she might mingle with people of the opposite sex'. Mac figured she should probably start by remembering to put her pants on instead of roaming around campus in her flannel pyjama bottoms.

That was how she ended up at Poetry Slam Night at the rec.

What could be a more natural fit than Mac and a bunch of self-righteous poseurs who think Che was a fascist and only drink artisanal gin out of champagne flutes? Totally her crowd.

The worst of it? Parker had the audacity to bail on her at the last minute, citing a hang-over.

Bitch.

* * *

It sucked exactly as much as Mac expected it to. More actually.

One the more militant members of Lillith House was up first with a poem about how language was sexist, riffing on the word '_HIS_tory' for ten minutes. Original.

The second student performed their entire beat-style poem in Esperanto.

It wasn't until the third speaker, who shakily read a series of haikus about her dog from a giant stack of 3x5 cards, that Mac decided she was going to need a drink in order to make it through the rest of the night. She couldn't let the bad beat poetry beat her. Plus, staying home on a Saturday night was pathetic, even for her. Even if the alternative was…this.

Mac turned longingly toward the small table in the back set up with beer. It was then that she noticed him standing there, looking as out of place as she felt.

Yeah, Parker was going to pay for this tomorrow.

Slipping out of her seat with an apologetic grimace, she took a deep breath and strode toward the booze. It was worth experiencing a five minute conversation with Dick Casablancas in order to drink her way through this. That itself was pretty much a commentary on how sad her social life had become.

He noticed her immediately, and instead of greeting her with the look of disdain she had grown so accustomed to over the last two years, he actually smiled. At first, she was sure he had to be mocking her, but as she drew closer, she could see he was genuinely happy to see her there.

"This is a pretty dorky outing, even for you."

Mac grinned tightly and reminded herself to think of the beer. "I feel like there's a backhanded compliment somewhere in there." She slapped a five dollar bill down on the table and pointed to a bottle of Heineken.

"Somewhere." He winked at her and grabbed the brew from the table, then lifted the bottle to the light to read the label. "Says Imported, but I think that's a load of bullshit. I've been to fucking Germany and the real stuff tastes a fuckload better." He twisted off the top and handed the open bottle back to her.

"I'll have to remember that in ten years when I've paid off all my student loans and can afford to leave the country."

He slid her $5 bill back across the table. "It's on me."

She smirked and pushed the bill back. "I can afford to buy myself a beer, Dick! I'm not _that_ poor."

"Come on, Mackie, this isn't me being a douchebag. Maybe, I'm like, trying to be a gentleman for once?" He pushed the bill back toward her.

Mac assessed his sincerity, then lifted the fiver and tucked it back into her jeans pocket. "Okay. Thanks."

"So, uh, what are you doing here? Finally working out all that Goth aggression on paper?"

"I'm not Goth, and there are plenty of better ways I'd rather work out my aggression than through the written word." She lifted the bottle to her lips and look a long sip, realizing a little too late how suggestive that probably sounded. "Dare I ask why you're here? You lose a bet? Fraternity hazing ritual?"

"Extra credit." Dick looked down to avoid her gaze and roughed up the back of his shaggy mane with his hand. "I'm kinda flunking English."

A smile took over her face and she let out and exaggerated sigh. "Ah. Now my world order is falling back into place. I was beginning to thing the end of days were upon us."

"You're so fucking weird, sometimes."

"Sometimes, I am." Mac nodded in agreement and her words took on a playful tone. "But you are always a pig."

Dick shrugged. "That's probably true too…but you know, I might be trying to do something about it."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Might be?"

He tipped his head forward to whisper secretively in her ear, his hair tickling the crook of her neck as his hot breath make her skin prick with goosebumps. "I don't want to raise expectations too high."

Mac was close enough to smell the brand of soap he was using, and cursed herself for forgetting to hate it. "I don't think that's going to be a problem for you," she whispered back.

His head dropped back and a loud guffaw tore out of his throat, interrupting the bald guy in a beret on stage who was snapping to the beat of his own words.

"Dick, shh!" Mac slapped his arm and held back her own laugh. Dozens of hostile stares were aimed their way. "We should leave before they start throwing their trendy hats at us."

"You wanna get out of here?" Dick's eyes widened at the suggestion. "With me?"

"That sounds like something a guy says when he's trying to get a chick to sleep with him."

He waggled his eyebrows at her and smiled smugly.

Mac slapped his arm again.

"Ow." Dick rubbed his hand up and down his arm. "There you go with that aggro again. You are total crap at taking a joke, you know that, right?"

He had a point. She could do with loosening up a bit, and if anybody knew how to facilitate something like that, it would be Dick Casablancas. Hanging out with Dick for an hour couldn't be worse than sitting through another limerick about self-harming.

"Yeah, but that's even more of a reason for you to take me out of this place and buy me a real drink. Now. The guy waiting to go on next brought a guitar." She grabbed his forearm and tugged him in the direction of the door.


	4. Silverlining

_**Prompt submitted by: mysilverlining2k6**_

_**Pairing: Dick Casablancas & Georgina Sparks (crossover one-shot with 'Gossip Girl')**_

_**AU setting: Dick is visiting The Big Apple, Georgina gets roped in to be his tour guide**_

_**^^This fic is a special birthday present to my beta^^**_

* * *

_**Silverlining**_

Barely looking at him, Georgina Sparks holds her jacket out for Dick to put on for her. "Just so we're clear - the only reason I'm doing this is because your dad owns half of the Upper East side and I want an apartment that faces the water. He said if I took his loser son all around town that he'd make that happen for me."

Dick's eyes widen with hurt, "My dad called me a loser?" He looks around the lobby of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, as if his dad was suddenly going to jump out and shout _'Just kidding!' _Big Dick isn't even in the East coast right now.

Georgina clears her throat and shakes the jacket until Dick takes the hint and dons it for her, then turns around wearing a huge smirk. "No. But that doesn't mean he wasn't thinking it, Richard."

"Call me Dick."

She snorts a laugh. "Tempting, but no. I doubt I can even get my mouth to form that word in a nonsexual context."

"Who said it had to be nonsexual, Georgie. You can scream it out any way you like." He waggles his eyebrows at her maniacally.

She immediately turns her face from him as if he had flashed her his penis. "Oh my God, stop. Seriously. I mean, you're built like a Viking, I'll give you that. And your face isn't…so bad, I guess. When you're not smiling like you ride the short bus…"

Dick stops smiling.

"But, you look like the chatty type, and I'm not really into that, so why don't we just go somewhere public instead?"

He does a half turn, looking somewhat confused and overwhelmed like a new puppy. "Like where?"

"Bendell's?" She immediately raises her hand to stop him from speaking. "Before you embarrass yourself, it's a department store."

"Pass."

"You could take me to Per Se," she offers with a put-upon sigh, like letting him drop a grand on lunch is doing him a favor,

"I don't know wha—"

"Forget it!" she snaps, cutting him off again. "Just imagining you trying to fumble your way through a foie gras terrine is putting my teeth on edge." She brings a manicured finger to her mouth in thought. "Hmm…where to go…where to go…I'd show you the MoMa, but you don't look like the type that would appreciate fine art."

Dick eyes a group of scantily-dressed ladies in the lobby and gives them the head nod. "Don't know about that, Georgie, I'm not having trouble appreciating any of the fine art around here."

She rolls her eyes. "Those girls are from Jersey, Richard. I'd almost be embarrassed for you, if you weren't you know…you. Comprenez-vous?"

"How do you know they're from Jersey?"

"Look at their shoes." She pulls a much larger pair of sunglasses out of her bag and swaps them with the ones she currently has on her face.

"Too busy looking at their racks." He runs a hand through his hair and she makes a face.

"I could take you to Sally Hershberger…she owes me a favor." Her mouth purses as she gingerly touches the sunbleached ends of his mane. "I think I'd probably end up owing her a favor after this, but it would _so_ be worth it."

"I like my hair the way it is, thanks." He pulls away from her.

From her expression, Dick may as well have told her she looks fat. "Why?"

Finally fed up with Georgina's abuse, he reaches forward and pulls her sunglasses from her face. "Hey, you'd be a lot easier to take on your back, you know that?"

"Excuse me?" She tries to grab her sunglasses back, but Dick holds them high above her head.

"You're an uptight bitch who needs to get laid. Comprenez-vous?"

A look of shock assaults her features.

"Yeah, that's right, I said it. You're a bitch."

The corners of her mouth curl up and her shoulders relax. "Oh, I know I'm a bitch. I'm just surprised you can understand French."

"My mom lives in France." He leans forward and slides her sunglasses back onto her face. "You'd look pretty hot if you just lose the bitchface."

"You'd look pretty hot if I were drunk," she counters.

A giant grin overtakes him. "Now, you're speaking my language."

"Am I now?" Georgina's features light up and she links her arm through his. "Considering how badly you're dressed, we'll have to go somewhere Downtown, but there's this little bar in NoLiTa that only serves drinks that were invented prior to 1940…"


	5. A Night at the Sprawl-Mart

_**Prompted by: hollyhock-girl**_

_**Pairing: Logan and Veronica**_

_**AU setting: LoVe gets locked in Target for the night (post S3) and gets back together**_

* * *

_**A Night at the Sprawl-Mart**_

Logan was pacing in front of the women's bathroom, checking his watch obsessively, when Veronica finally emerged. "It's about time, Ronnie. This place closed ten minutes ago. I was beginning to think you fell in."

"Sorry, I drank at least two S'kists while we were walking around in here. Needed to rehydrate. Why is Target so freaking big? Who needs this much stuff?" Her hand brushed over the towel rack that topped the huge pile of items she had loaded into the cart. "Apparently me, I guess. Anyway, it took a while because I'm wearing a really tight pair of Spanx. Houdini couldn't get himself out of these babies."

_She's wearing Spanx? She weighs a 100 pounds soaking wet. What the hell kind of outfit is she planning on wearing out that she needs Spanx to get it on? And why didn't she ever wear something that tight when she was with me?_

Logan raised an eyebrow at her in question.

"Parker," Veronica said, as if the name alone should explain everything clearly. "I got bullied into. Literally." She ran a hand over her belly and grimaced. "I might actually hate her for this."

The name hung in the air like a lead balloon. Considering how hard it was for Veronica to make friends, Logan was glad she and Parker managed to patch things up after his breakup with her. It wasn't Veronica's fault that he was irrevocable in love with her.

He scratched the back of his neck and looked nonchalantly over his shoulder into the empty sports equipment aisle. "Why? Are you planning on wearing something tight on your date?" He popped the final consonant for effect.

_Smooth. Not remotely desperate, dude._

She didn't answer right away, and Logan feared he had pissed her off. Again. But when he finally got up the nerve to turn back around, she met his eyes with a knowing smirk.

She cleared her throat in an obvious way before responding. "Why do you think I haven't taken my coat off the entire time we've been in here? Apparently, sporting a 'lasagne baby' on a first date is not considered sexy. Who knew?"

His eyes roamed the contours of her trench coat, looking for signs of what she had on underneath. "You could always try not eating your weight in pasta."

"I plan to get something out of this date, Logan. Two hours on a blind date with a math major entitles me to something, don't you think?" She flushed pink under the weight of his predatory gaze. "And you can stop trying to figure out what I'm wearing, pervert. It's not even my dress. How a girl who's almost a foot taller than me can manage to wear a smaller size, I'll never know. This dress would even look short on your little friend, Heather."

_Heather would be so into this trial hangout we're attempting. She'd probably try to get us locked inside of the store and call it a 'grand romantic gesture'._

Hope blossomed within Logan's chest, even though he knew it was the stupidest emotion to let himself feel around Veronica. "You're not going out with Piz?"

Her brow furrowed. "Logan, Piz dumped me ages ago…or did you forget the way he looked at us after that little stunt you pulled with Gory in the cafeteria?"

_Forget?_

That was maybe the best moment of his life.

"I guess I just thought he'd forgive you. I always do." The last part came out a lot harsher than intended.

"You're _such _a humanitarian," Veronica deadpanned, then took the reigns of the overfilled cart and pushed it past him down the aisle.

Internally he kicked himself and ran off after her, until she stopped suddenly and looked at him over her shoulder. "Why _do_ you always forgive me?"

_Would it be too much if I told her it's because I'd rather die than be without her?_

He exhaled roughly and scrubbed his face with his hands. "You really want to have this conversation in the sports equipment aisle of a Sprawl-Mart?"

"Would you rather do it over in housewares?" Her lips pursed in amusement. "I knew you still had my Simpsons Blu-ray."

"I'm the one who bought it for you."

Her smile grew broader. "You do know me, I'll give you that."

"Maybe a little." He said though a smile, as his chin touched his chest. "Maybe I just wish you knew me a little bit better."

Veronica's expression fell. She took two steps back and grabbed the edge of his sleeve. "Come on."

"Where are you manhandling me off to?" He pretended to balk, but they both know it was bullshit.

"Always with the man jokes, huh Echolls?" She snorted and gave his shirt a firm tug. "We're going to housewares."

_What the fuck?_

His eyes grew wide with panic. "We're actually doing this? We're having 'the talk' in the middle of a suburban Target? In my dream we were doing this at an inner city Walmart."

"Stop being an idiot for five minutes." She pushed him into the red canvas couch until he collapsed, then picked up a white cushion from the floor and chucked it at him. "Get comfy."

The main lights of the store cut out suddenly leaving them in total darkness.

"This was not planned."

He chuckled, imagining the freaked out look on her face. "Is this the part where you kill me and hide my body in one of those Danish cribs?"

The ghost lights blinked on slowly, just as Veronica's trench coat pooled around her ankles.

He knew the lighting change meant they were probably locked in for the night, and the thought made him unreasonably happy. So happy he would almost be embarrassed for himself, were he not too busy checking out her legs.

_Fuck. If Parker and I were still on speaking terms, I would probably send her a thank you note for loaning Ronnie this dress._

Veronica's hands skimmed the sides of Parker's red, satin slip dress, and settled self-consciously on her hips. "So…the lights are off. I think we might be locked in."

His eyes toured her body from the ankles up, until they met her eyes. "I've never wished for florescent lights to turn on more in my life."

Her mouth twitched into a frown, but quickly recovered. She waved a hand in the air dismissively. "You don't want to be locked in here with me. I get it."

"That's _so _the opposite of what I meant, Veronica."

"Oh."

They stared at each other for a moment, both seemingly afraid to be the first one to speak.

"I don't have a date tonight, Logan." Veronica licked her lips and hesitated for a moment before taking a step toward him. "Well, I did…but I'm not going."

Logan's pulse picked up so quickly it startled him. His hand rose to cup his heart, just to make sure it was still functioning. "If I'm misreading this, now would be the time to put me out of my misery."

"I knew I had the date scheduled for right after you helped me shop for my new place, so I had to get ready for it before we met up." She slowly closed the distance between them, stopping only when their knees hit. "The thing is, about halfway through, I realized that I didn't really give a shit if Oliver from the math department thought I looked hot in this dress. But, I couldn't stop wondering what you'd think of it."

His forehead fell forward onto her stomach and she dug her fingers into his hair.

"You look ridiculously hot, but you know that." He swallowed hard and decided to go for it. "You're always the most beautiful thing in any room, regardless of what you're wearing or where we are."

"Even in the housewares department at Target?" She gently tipped his head back to look at her.

He grinned, watching with awe as she anxiously worried her bottom lip.

Lifting his finger, he traced the swell of her lip. "Especially in the housewares department at Target."

She sank down next to him on the couch and cradled his face in her hands. "I'm really dying to get these Spanx off, Logan."

He pressed his lips against hers, and felt that familiar spark start to smolder again. "That makes two of us."


End file.
